Prices Paid
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Lucius Malfoy asks Gwenog Jones to do something shameful. Unfortunately, he's right: everyone can be bought.


_Quidditch League, round 3_

 _Falmouth Falcons, Captain_

 _Prompt: Pulp Fiction_

 _Note: This fic is inspired by Butch's story arc in the film, with obvious divergence to work with this story._

 _Word Count: 1705_

* * *

Gwenog Jones looks around, an icy feeling of dread washing over her. Being called to Malfoy Manor had been quite a surprise, and she can't help but feel uncomfortable the longer she waits for her host to arrive.

Her dark eyes flicker to the golden watch around her wrist, and she sighs. She still doesn't know why she'd been summoned here at all, and she's spent nearly half an hour waiting alone. Something tells her that getting out without seeing the master of the house won't be easy. Though she has never met him, Lucius Malfoy has a reputation. There are too many stories about people's lives being ruined after displeasing him.

Her foot taps anxiously against the sleek marble floor. "Hello?" she calls out, though she doesn't actually expect anyone to answer. At the very least, she hopes her voice will remind the family that she's still here, still waiting.

To her surprise, she hears the heavy door of the study slide open. When she turns, she finds herself face to face with an older man with long, silky white-blond hair. He offers her a smile, but there's too much ice in that dangerous quirk of his lips for it to be inviting. "Ms. Jones," he says, moving right past her and taking a seat as his polished mahogany desk. "May I call you Gwenog?"

"If you'd like," she says stiffly, folding her arms over her chest. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Lucius, please," he corrects. "Mr. Malfoy was my father."

"Lucius, then," she says with a shrug of her broad shoulders. Without waiting for an invitation, she sits in the chair across from him. She is careful to keep her posture straight to the point of being rigid, refusing to show even the smallest sign of submission. "What can I do for you?"

Lucius regards her with detached interest. His pale brows raise, and he chuckles. "Straight to the point, I see," he muses. "I can respect that."

"I'm sure you can."

Truthfully, though, she gets the feeling that he doesn't really respect anyone or anything. Her understanding of the Malfoy family is that they see themselves as being above everyone else. Judging by these brief interactions so far, she can't help but to think people aren't wrong.

Lucius Malfoy studies her in silence. Gwenog shifts uncomfortably. She has never been one to let a man intimidate her on the pitch or off, but there's something about his steel grey eyes that makes her skin crawl.

After several moments that feel more like an eternity, he leans forward. The smile on his lips looks more believable now, but Gwenog can't bring herself to trust him. "The Harpies play the Bats this weekend."

She snorts. As the Captain, she is well aware of the upcoming match. Her Harpies have been practicing more than ever, hoping to put an end to the other team's winning streak. "I didn't realize you were a fan," she says sweetly, tugging at her short, dark braid. "I would have brought an autographed robe."

"A fan? Hardly." Lucius waves his wand, summoning a bottle of wine and two glasses. "Care for a drink?"

"A little won't hurt," she says. "Why does my match matter?"

"Because," Lucius says filling Gwenog's glass halfway and handing it to her before pouring his own glass, "you are going to lose."

Gwenog laughs and takes a sip. "I am? I don't think so."

The Harpies may not have the most spectacular record, but they have been playing well enough this season. The Bats may be the crowd favorite, but Gwenog knows her girls are ruthless and can slaughter them. The thought of losing is ridiculous and makes her scoff.

"You are," he confirms calmly, a dangerous glint in his piercing gaze. "You see, you are going to personally make sure of it."

Her jaw drops. For several seconds, all she can do is stare incredulously at Lucius, wondering if she's heard him correctly or if this is some sort of joke. Unfortunately, his expression remains serious, and a wave of nausea washes over her. He honestly expects her to throw the game.

"Why would I do that?" she asks.

"Half a million Galleons."

The words catch her off guard. Gwenog's glass slips from her hand, shattering onto the floor below. "Sorry," she says, pulling out her wand and aiming its tip at burgundy pool of wine. "I'll just—"

"Leave it. We have more pressing matters to attend to."

Reluctantly, she turns her attention back to him, pursing her lips. It's a lot of gold, and she's already imagining everything she can do with it. Still, it's sickening. Her team means the world to her, and she could never allow herself to let them down.

"That's a generous offer," she says, "but I can't be bought."

"Everyone has a price," he insists.

"Not me."

At first, he doesn't respond. Gwenog almost smirks from the overwhelming sense of victory. It only takes a few seconds for her triumph to shatter as Lucius climbs to his feet and moves closer, circling her like a predator stalking its prey. "A quarter million, then. It's less than my original offer, but I have an extra little bonus for you."

"And what's that?" she demands.

He rests his hand on her arm, porcelain juxtaposed against dark skin. "If you sabotage your team, not only are you filthy rich, but your girlfriend will get to live."

Gwenog feels as though she's been doused with a bucket of ice water. The chill manages to find its way into her bones, and she can't shake it. "W-what did you say?"

"I said that if you don't cooperate with me, I will deliver your girlfriend's head to your change room in a box," Lucius says simply, his voice eerily calm. "Do I make myself clear?"

She swallows dryly, her stomach acidic. Grudgingly, she nods. "Crystal."

Lucius claps his hands together, beaming at her. "Perfect! In that case, I'll have half the money transferred to your account. You'll get the rest once you've done as I've asked."

Instead of responding, she climbs to her feet and starts for the door. She's afraid she might throw up if she tries to speak. When she reaches the doorway, though, she turns. "Why does the outcome of this match matter so much?" she asks.

He winks at her. "Can't give all my secrets away," he laughs. "All I can say is that there is a lot riding on this match, and you would be wise not to let me down."

…

Gwenog bites the inside of her cheek as she soars through the air. She still doesn't know how she's expected to throw the game. The Harpies are currently ahead by seventy points; unless the Bats manage to catch the Snitch, there isn't really a chance for them to come back.

"What's that?" The commentator's voice is loud as it cuts across the roar of the crowd. "The Harpies' Seeker looks like she's seen the Snitch!"

Gwenog forces herself out of her thoughts. Sure enough, Olive's attention is on something to her left. Gwenog can faintly register the subtle flutter of wings as the Snitch soars through the air.

She has to act now. Her stomach twists itself painfully into knots, and the repeated deep breaths do not ease her discomfort. Her heart beats painfully within her chest, and she acts without really thinking. With her bat raised, she flies forward, hoping for the best. She swings at the approaching Bludger, aiming for Olive, hoping she can knock her teammate off her broomstick and make it look like an accident.

The Bats' Seeker is in the wrong place at the wrong time, leaning forward haphazardly. Both arms are outstretched as he and Olive race neck to neck to grab the Snitch. Maybe he would have even succeeded if Gwenog's Bludger hadn't crashed into his head.

She watches in mute horror, her jaw slack as the the momentum of the Bludger knocks the opposing Seeker off his broomstick. Even if someone can prevent his fall, Gwenog is reasonably sure that she has caused a major head injury. Best case scenario, he will be in St. Mungo's for an extended period of time. Worst case scenario…

Gwenog shudders, unable to even think of it. A stunned silence feels the stadium, and she is painfully aware of the way her heart hammers within her chest. Everyone has witnessed the deed. The League will launch an official investigation, and they will notice the large amount of gold that has been transferred to her.

Knowing that she is completely screwed, she does the only thing she can do; she flees.

…

She has it all planned out. There is enough money in the safe at home to get away. She and Monique can leave Wales and start a new life somewhere else. No one will ever find them, and she will be okay. Lucius can take his gold back; she never should have gotten tangled up in this mess to begin with.

As she nears her home, however, the hope in her heart quickly fades. Monique's lifeless body is visible at the gate. Her golden blonde curls pool around her head like a halo.

It takes several seconds for Gwenog to remember how to breathe. She rushes forward, her chest aching as she kneels beside her fallen lover. Tears fall freely from her eyes, leaving warm, salty streaks down her cheeks.

"Monique, _cariad,_ " she whispers, her fingertips grazing over her girlfriend's cheek. The world seems to stop spinning, and her mind races, trying to process what she sees before her. "Monique, please…"

"You really should have been more careful." A woman with messy dark hair and a manic glint in her brown eyes steps out of the shadows, smiling as she raises her wand and points it at Gwenog. "My brother-in-law is mostly a little mouse, but he is still not the type of man you want as an enemy."

Gwenog reaches for her wand, ready to fight, but the hired assassin is quicker. The last thing Gwenog sees is a jet of green, and then the world falls away.


End file.
